Falling Boundaries: Last Stand
by DispleasedScottie
Summary: A storm is coming. An enemy never seen will tear the world apart. Heroes will discover their place in the world, and face truths about themselves and others. The last stand of humanity has begun. Note: This is the remake of Falling Boundaries, with new characters and such. Enjoy.


**Author's Note:** Guys, I'm restarting Falling Boundaries. I'm gonna make new characters, and I'll be deleting the story. I'm sorry if you *liked* the old series. This time it'll be longer, deeper, and way, way less plot holes. So you're welcome, guys. And as always, eheheheheh.

**Prologue**

It was just your average day in Minecraftia, and it seemed peaceful in the sleepy town of Fairmill. The town's children were playing in the town square, and overall it was a normal day. The large fountain's flowing water was creating a rather relaxing splashing sound. Children could be heard playing in a nearby field. This is where a story begins, and a world ends. This is where Alex Atwood's story begins.

Alex was in the town square at the time, sitting next to the damp stone fountain. He brushed some of his messy brown mop of hair from his eyes, as it often obstructed his view. Shifty merchants were peddling goods to various people, the church was open and prayers could be heard from the outside, and various establishments were open for the day. He noted the scent of incense wafting out of the church. He saw one of his friends walking out of the wood and stone brick library with the large stained-glass windows, so he stood, standing upright on his long and usually awkward legs.

He walked over to them, smiling. His leather messenger bag bumped against his side as he walked, creating a bit of a clunking sound as it did so. He shivered quietly, the morning mist penetrating through his brown fleece shirt. His deep-set mahogany eyes, which always made him look like a trickster, flitted around as he examined his dear friend.

"Hi, Monet." Alex said to his friend, smiling as he usually would.

His friend, Monet, was what some people would describe as odd.

They would often hover in the corners of rooms, never vying for the spotlight like others would, hiding their neck with a powder white scarf, wearing a carbon black vest over a grey long-sleeved shirt. Monet was around his age, approximately fifteen in age, however his dear friend would often isolate themselves from others their age. Sometimes, wheat-colored hair would cover the sky blue eyes of theirs, and scars would line Monet's arms in straight, deliberate patterns.

"Hi, AA." Monet replied, in their usual monotone and neutral voice. Alex smiled at the nickname Monet gave him when he was twelve years old.

"What's wrong?" He asked them, as usual worried about his friend.

"Nothing… it's just that today things seem a bit drearier than usual. Like something bad's going to happen." Monet explained, moving hands in their usual expressive body language.

The young man dismissed this thought, continuing his conversation, staring up at the sky occasionally, seeing the clouds' color being gray. He sighed, tugging his friend inside, staring out the window as they talked. In the back of his mind he was nervous, especially nervous about how his mysterious friend's predictions were often correct.

"Monet…. Did you see somebody at the town square's market that looked suspicious?" The boy inquired.

"No…" Monet muttered.

"Must've just been my head then….. She seemed to be wearing a black cloak. When I saw her face, finally, she had a very, very white face, with coal black eyes and….. matted, bloody, strawy blonde hair. I approached her and asked her what she was doing. She didn't reply, only smirking at me with these sharp, horrible blood covered fangs. I suddenly felt pins and needles, as if her being near me would kill me, and so I just ran as fast as I could. Might've just been my head, though." He explained.

His friend started shaking, not shivering, but shaking, as if out of fear.

"A storm's coming, Alex. I, the Seer, suggest we prepare, to batten down your and I's hatches." Monet said in their usual dreary voice.

Somehow, Alex didn't listen to his friend's usual cryptic advice.

As he would learn later, it was a big mistake.


End file.
